I'll steal Gao Qiu's life and lead the Song Dynasty to prosperity.

The residence of Wang Zudao, the Left Censor, was located in Tianshui Lane in the east of the city. It was a three-courtyard house, not very large, but elegantly decorated.

The afternoon sun was shining brightly, but Wang Zudao had no interest in admiring the peonies in the courtyard. He paced back and forth in his study with his hands behind his back, his face so gloomy it looked like it was about to drip water.

He is forty-eight years old, of medium build, with fair skin and three long wisps of beard, a typical civil official.

He was able to reach the position of Left Censor not because of his sharpness, but because of his prudence.

Wang Zudao was from the Yuanyou old party, but he was not a core member. During the Xining era, he even said a few good words for the new laws, so his stance was not clear.

Later, when the old party gained power, he barely managed to maintain his position by relying on his distant kinship with Lü Dafang and his relatively smooth way of dealing with people.

Now that the New Party has been revived, he has begun to secretly associate with Zhang Dun's followers again, like a weather vane, bending whichever way the wind blows.

But his son, Wang Yuan, became a thorn in his side.

"Master." Butler Wang Zhong tiptoed in, carrying several pages of paper. "We've found out about the Imperial Academy."

Wang Zudao stopped and turned around: "Speak."

"Young master, you took the private exam this time. You answered the three policy questions and got a lower grade." Wang Zhong's voice was tense. "The first and second questions were acceptable, but the third question... the comment was 'ambiguous stance and empty arguments'."

"Yi Xia..." Wang Zudao squeezed out the two words through clenched teeth, his fingers trembling slightly.

The Imperial Academy's private examinations were divided into five grades: Grade A (Upper), Grade A, Grade B (Upper), Grade B, and Grade B (Lower).

B is basically at the bottom.

"And another thing," Wang Zhong presented the paper in his hand, "this is the answer sheet of Zhao Mingcheng, the top scorer this month. It was posted at the Imperial Academy, and this old servant had a copy made."

Wang Zudao took it, quickly scanned it, and the more he looked, the paler his face became.

The first question, on the assessment of land reclamation, was well-organized and offered specific suggestions; the second question, on the New Policies and the Three Dynasties, cited classical texts and presented a sound argument; the third question refuted the argument that border warfare depleted the nation's resources...

His gaze was fixed on the third question.

The economic calculations were crystal clear: the military expenses for opening up the Xihe border amounted to 2.4 million strings of cash, and the tea, horse and salt taxes would increase by 450,000 strings of cash; if Huangzhou fell, commercial taxes could increase by 300,000 strings of cash, and the annual cost of autumn defense military expenses could be reduced by 600,000 strings of cash.

The conclusion was unequivocal: "Abandoning Huangzhou now will save 200,000 strings of cash in military expenses annually, but it will also result in the loss of 300,000 strings of cash in salt and iron profits, and leave behind border troubles. In the future, suppressing and pacifying the region may cost a million strings of cash."

Then came the precedents of the Han and Tang dynasties, which were eventually elevated to the point that "expanding the borders does not deplete the country, but rather strengthens it" and "those who govern the borders well will find that border administration becomes a source of national wealth."

"Good article." Wang Zudao sneered, slamming the paper onto the desk.

"Excellent insight! Excellent courage!"

How could he not be angry?

He also read his son's answer sheet, which he had copied from the Imperial Academy through connections. The paper was written timidly, neither daring to refute the old party openly nor to clearly support the new law, and finally received the comment of "ambiguous stance".

Zhao Mingcheng's paper, on the other hand, has a clear stance, solid arguments, and a long-term vision, making it clearly superior.

"What's Zhao Mingcheng's background?" Wang Zudao sat down, picked up his teacup, but his hand couldn't stay still.

"This old servant has inquired," Wang Zhong bowed.

"Zhao Mingcheng is the only son of Zhao Tingzhi, a secretary in the Imperial Secretariat. He is nineteen years old this year and is a student of the Imperial Academy."

"At the Prince Duan's gathering, he made a name for himself on the football field and even discussed epigraphy, calligraphy, and painting with the Prince Duan, finding them quite congenial. Later, the Prince Duan personally sent an invitation to his residence, which he accepted on leave, and the Chancellor Ye granted it. A few days ago, in the examination hall, the young master... the young master and he had some disagreements."

Wang Zudao narrowed his eyes: "Disagreements?"

Wang Zhong recounted how Wang Yuan "accidentally" knocked over the inkstone during the examination, and how Zhao Mingcheng publicly pointed out that the inkstone was actually a gift from Prince Duan. He added at the end.

"The supervising official even reprimanded the young man, and the news spread throughout the Imperial Academy."

"Snapped!"

The teacup was slammed heavily onto the table, spilling tea. Wang Zudao's chest heaved, and after a long while, he managed to squeeze out a sentence through gritted teeth.

"evil creature!"

It's unclear whether this statement was meant to criticize the son for being stupid or to condemn Zhao Mingcheng for being ruthless.

He closed his eyes and took a few deep breaths.

When she opened her eyes again, she had regained her usual composure.

"Zhao Tingzhi..." Wang Zudao muttered, "He echoed Wang Anshi during the Xining era, remained silent during the Yuanyou era, but now that the emperor has taken power, he has become active again. He is quite the opportunist."

"My lord, about Lord Na Yuan..." the steward asked tentatively.

"Useless piece of trash!" Wang Zudao gritted his teeth. "Disrespectful behavior in the examination room is already shameful; to write such a poor answer sheet is... a complete failure!" He tried hard to suppress his anger.

"He's at the Imperial Academy; how many more days until he can go home for his rest?"

"According to the rules, one may return home on the first and fifteenth days of each month. The next day will be the first day of the sixth lunar month."

"Make him go straight to the ancestral hall and kneel down when he comes back on the first day of the lunar new year!" Wang Zudao waved his hand and added.

"Don't give them food."

"Yes." The butler dared not say more and bowed as he withdrew.

Wang Zudao was the only one left in the study.

He picked up the copied exam paper again, his gaze falling on the comments at the end.

"The argument is sound, the data is detailed, the insights are outstanding, and the writing and reasoning are both excellent; it is the top-ranked work."

"The champion of the top tier..." he sneered, "What a champion of the top tier."

The candlelight flickered, reflecting his ever-changing face.

After a long while, he slowly folded the exam paper, put it in the drawer, and locked it.

Zhao Mingcheng... Prince Duan... Zhao Tingzhi...

This matter cannot be rushed. If the son suffers a loss, it is because the son is incompetent.

But the Wang family's reputation cannot be lost, and the reputation of the censors and officials who speak out against injustices cannot be lost either.

He needed a better reason, a more reliable method.

After all, the Imperial Academy belongs to the imperial court, and its rules are those of the imperial court. No matter how favored a student of the Imperial Academy is, what trouble can he cause?

He picked up the tea, which had long since gone cold, and took a sip. The tea was bitter, but it made him a little more awake.

……

The same moon shone on the residence of Prime Minister Zhang Dun.

The Zhang Mansion is located on the riverbank in the west of the city. Its scale is far superior to that of the Wang Mansion. It has five courtyards, pavilions and towers, and is brightly lit at night.

However, Zhang Dun disliked luxury, and his study was simply furnished with a table, a chair, and shelves full of books. On the wall hung a selection of Wang Anshi's calligraphy of the "Hong Fan" (Great Plan), the paper of which had turned yellow.

Zhang Dun was also looking at Zhao Mingcheng's exam paper. He was looking at it very slowly and carefully.

Especially the third question, which he added himself.

Zhang Dun's original intention in adding this question was...

I want to use this question to see how many of these future officials at the Imperial Academy can understand this game, and how many are still indulging in the old dreams of the Yuan You era.

When he read Zhao Mingcheng's third question, he stopped and lightly drew a line under the sentence "If we abandon Huangzhou now, we will save 200,000 strings of cash in military expenses every year, but we will lose 300,000 strings of cash in profits from salt and iron."

"That's a good calculation," he muttered to himself.

The further down I looked, the stronger my appreciation became.

This article is not only well-written, but also insightful.

The data is detailed, including military expenses for the opening of the Xihe border, as well as increased revenue from tea, horse, and salt taxes.

The citations are also very accurate—the establishment of the Protectorate of the Western Regions during the Han Dynasty and the establishment of the Four Garrisons of Anxi during the Tang Dynasty are all solid historical facts.

The argument progresses step by step, first acknowledging the cost of opening up borders, then calculating the economic benefits, then citing historical examples, and finally elevating it to the point that "opening up borders is actually a way to strengthen the country."

What's even more remarkable is Zhao Mingcheng's spirit.

He was neither arrogant nor humble, but reasoned and well-founded, possessing both the sharpness of a scholar and the pragmatism of a capable official.

"This Zhao Mingcheng," Zhang Dun looked up and asked his servant Zhang An, "what's his background?"

Zhang An had already prepared his explanation.

"Reporting to Your Excellency, he is the only son of Zhao Sheren of the Secretariat. He is nineteen years old this year and is a student of the Imperial Academy."

"At the Prince Duan's gathering a month ago, he played Cuju (ancient Chinese football) and discussed calligraphy and painting, which greatly pleased Prince Duan. A few days ago, Prince Duan even specially summoned him to his residence to appreciate his antiques and presented him with an inkstone. He brought that inkstone into the examination hall for this private test."

Zhang Dun's impression of Zhao Tingzhi was so-so.

The Secretary of the Imperial Secretariat was skilled in writing and adept at handling affairs. Although he was not a core member of the New Party, his stance remained stable, and he would express his opinion when necessary.

The imperial edict on the military-agricultural settlements in the Northwest was drafted by Zhao Tingzhi a while ago; the words were earnest and the logic was clear.

But his expression changed immediately upon hearing the name of Prince Duan.

"Prince Duan?" Zhang Dun's voice deepened. "He's been quite active lately."

Zhang An dared not respond to that.

"My lord, I've also found out," Zhang An added.

"On the day of the private examination, Wang Yuan, the son of Wang Zudao, the Left Censor, deliberately bumped into the inkstone on Zhao Mingcheng's desk in the examination room. However, Zhao Mingcheng exposed in public that the inkstone was a gift from Prince Duan, which made Wang Yuan lose face. The supervising official reprimanded Wang Yuan on the spot."

Upon hearing this, Zhang Dun remained expressionless, only saying calmly.

"It is because Wang Zudao failed to properly educate his son."

Despite this, a hint of displeasure rose in his heart.

It wasn't directed at Wang Yuan, but at Zhao Mingcheng.

Judging from Zhao Mingcheng's test papers, his talent and knowledge are excellent. If he is properly nurtured, he may be of great use in the future.

But he ended up marrying Prince Duan, Zhao Ji, a prince who only knew how to enjoy calligraphy, painting, and entertainment, and was frivolous and dissolute.

Zhang Dun recalled the complex look in the Emperor's eyes when he mentioned Prince Duan at Chongzheng Hall the day before yesterday.

The emperor felt both affection and helplessness towards his younger brother.

The affection stemmed from brotherly love, but unfortunately, Prince Duan was truly no good.

He spends his days painting bamboo, playing football, or collecting antique artifacts and trinkets, showing no trace of imperial grandeur.

What good can Zhao Mingcheng learn from following someone like that?

They might also be led astray and become frivolous.

It's a pity that such talent and insight have been wasted.

Zhang Dun put down the exam paper and tapped his fingers lightly on the table.

The lamplight cast varying shadows on his face, making his lean and serious features appear even more profound.

"My lord," Zhang An asked cautiously, "this examination paper..."

"I will present it to His Majesty after the morning court session tomorrow," Zhang Dun said.

"His Majesty has recently been concerned about the military farms in the Northwest and the performance evaluation of officials. The first two questions on this paper are very relevant to the current problems. As for the third question," he paused, "it refutes the argument that border defense is detrimental to the nation. His Majesty will understand and smile after reading this paper."

The old party always brought up the issue of "expanding the borders and depleting the country's resources," which the government had long been tired of.

Zhao Mingcheng's paper refuted the old party's arguments completely and provided a clear account, which was exactly what the emperor wanted.

"However," Zhang Dun suddenly added, "you should investigate Zhao Mingcheng more thoroughly. How are his studies? What are his friends like? Does he have any bad deeds? In particular, just how close is he to Prince Duan?"

"Yes."

Zhang An withdrew, leaving Zhang Dun alone in the study.

He picked up the exam paper again and read it once more.

His gaze lingered on the last sentence of the third question, "This is the foundation for practicing the benevolent governance of the three dynasties," and after a long while, he sighed.

The article is excellent, and the insights gained are genuine.

Ke Ren... it's hard to say.

The night outside the window was as dark as ink, and the lights of the Prime Minister's residence swayed slightly in the wind. In the distance, the faint sound of a wooden clapper could be heard; it was the second watch of the night.

Zhang Dun put away the examination paper and placed it in a brocade box. Tomorrow, this top-scoring paper will appear on the emperor's desk in the Chongzheng Hall.

And the name Zhao Mingcheng will enter the sight of the Song emperor for the first time.

But whether it's a blessing or a curse, a rise or a fall, who can say for sure at this moment?

The night was deep, and Bianjing City slept in silence.

In the study of the Wang residence, Wang Zudao was still standing by the window, his eyes still gleaming with cold light;

In the study of the Prime Minister's residence, Zhang Dun had already blown out the oil lamp and entered the inner room.

Meanwhile, at the Imperial Academy, Zhao Mingcheng had just finished his lessons for the day. Little did he know that his name was quietly rising and falling at the confluence of two undercurrents.